


Someday, Maybe You'll Be Mine

by vexbatch



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Blow Jobs, Clint is a hopeless romantic, Consent is Sexy, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Genderqueer Bucky Barnes, Genderqueer Character, Getting Together, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Pining, Relationship Negotiation, bucky is trans but it's not a focus, circus bucky, preslash for most of it, that's a tag? hell yeah, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29325579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexbatch/pseuds/vexbatch
Summary: On a semi-regular day in the life of Clint Barton, semi-dumpster fire, one person reminds him a little too much of his past. Upon further reflection (and further sightings), maybe the problem isn’t that the person is reminding Clint of the tricks he used to turn, but the fact that he has a budding crush for someone whose name he doesn’t even know.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: 2021 Winterhawk Valentine's Day Exchange





	Someday, Maybe You'll Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Noxnthea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxnthea/gifts).



> For noxnthea: your prompts were all lovely, but “Circus!Clint...or Circus!Bucky” just ran away with me. I hope you enjoy! Thanks to the lovely Hope for the beta read!

↣↣ ✩---╎♡╎--- ✩↢↢

It had been a long, long time since Clint had thought about the circus.

Thing was, it had been a chapter of his past, and a really fucking shitty one at that, so he'd taken what he'd learned and never looked back. He'd been happy, these last few years, finding a place to teach archery, making friends with the newer instructor, Kate, even keeping his fuck buddy turned friend, Natasha, who had left the circus life with him. He had a dog, just enough money to scrape by, and it was enough. It was _good._

Until one day when he was on his way to the range, late from the obnoxious line at the bagel place on the corner, when someone spinning a baton caught his eye. No, not a baton, but as Clint drifted closer he could see the man on the corner pushing and pulling his hands in time with a wand that appeared to be floating in front of him. It wasn't that unusual for circus folk or flow artists to busk in the parks and on the street corners, but they didn't usually venture down into Bed Stuy, and none of them had stopped Clint in his tracks quite like this.

Maybe it was the guy's hair, long and hiding his face, the same way Gambit would hide before that laughing face would reveal itself, emerging just to taunt you with what he had stolen from you.

Maybe it was the way his hands moved, so strong yet so delicate as they circled the shimmering wand.

Or maybe it was just that it had been a while since Clint had steeled himself against seeing his old life in the everyday pieces of his new home.

Shaking himself, Clint turned and made the rest of his way to the range, trying to put the guy out of his head. Of course, it didn't fucking work. He spent the rest of the day remembering all of his old trick shots, jumping when the newest addition to his class looked _just_ enough like Barney. 

By the end of the day, Kate was shooting him worried glances and stopping by to check on him.

"I'm fine, Katie-Kate," Clint lied, hanging up the last of the bows after his lessons. "Just gonna go home and snuggle Lucky. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, alright, Clint." She looked like she wanted to say more, but Kate just shook her head, letting it go. "Call me if you need me, yeah? America and I don't have anything important tonight, I can come hang at any point."

Clint flashed her a smile, knowing that it didn't reach his eyes, seeing how she was unconvinced by it. "Yeah, I'll do that."

There was the barest twist in his gut as Clint turned away, ignoring Kate's last sigh behind him. There wasn't anything _wrong,_ there was nothing to feel guilty about, but anytime Kate worried about him, it threw Clint into a lurch. Between that and the guy earlier, Clint was thoroughly off kilter, working on autopilot to get home, clip a leash onto Lucky, go for a couple blocks walk, and collapse back at home onto the couch.

He made a brief attempt to turn on some show, to lose himself in the rerun of an old movie he’d seen as a kid, but ended up drifting off, startling awake from a dream of being chased sometime in the night. 

Casting a glance around, Clint let the darkened familiarity of his apartment and the quiet, wuffling sighs of Lucky calm his racing heart until his breathing was back to normal, adrenaline draining out of him. 

Just a stupid nightmare. He was just worked up over seeing that guy, except what was playing in his mind right now wasn’t the feeling of hiding behind the musty curtains before it was his turn to go on….It was that person’s face. The little glimpses had been so focused, like they were so _determined_ to get things right, to not give up the game.

Clint sighed and rolled over. Whatever. It’s not like he would ever see that one again anyway.

↣↣ ✩---╎♡╎--- ✩↢↢

It wasn’t until two weeks later that Clint saw the man again, idly spinning shortened staves in a park near Clint’s building. Fortunately, it was a Thursday, one of Clint’s normal days off, so he had the luxury of standing around to gawk, Lucky patiently sitting at his feet. 

As the song ended and the man bent to start the next one, he threw a glance over to Clint. Clint tried to smile, to look non threatening, and he assumed he must’ve had some amount of success, because the man picked his staves back up and began a rapid dance to the new beat. 

The guy was _good_ , an elegant sweep of limbs and decisive strokes that matched the dips of the music. It didn’t look rehearsed, felt more like he was letting the music move _through_ him, rather than choreographing his act for a crowd. Now that Clint could stand and watch, could admire the stretch of the guy’s shoulders, watch the way his thighs flexed as he dipped and danced, Clint was surprised that the guy had reminded him of his old circus at all. He had so much more _life_ in him, his movements felt fluid and honest in a way that Clint only really felt when he was running with Lucky, or playing around at the range with Kate. 

The guy was gorgeous, and Clint found himself wondering how he would taste.

 _No,_ that was dumb, and rude; the guy was just trying to make a living and here Clint was being a colossal _creep_ , just standing and watching him. As the song ended, Clint shook himself from the self-deprecating spiral, managing another smile as he clapped for the guy. The dancer shot him a wary smile as he moved into another song, the sun highlighting the gorgeous tattoo sleeve running down one arm. 

Clint forced his eyes away, digging in his pocket until he found some wadded up cash and threw it in the hat next to the guy. Lucky let out a little _boof_ at the movement, but lurched to his feet and followed Clint down the sidewalk, back to their little apartment. That night, images of long haired, tattooed men disappeared around corners and behind curtains in Clint’s dreams. When he eventually awoke, there was an entirely different reason for the blood rushing in his ears.

↣↣ ✩---╎♡╎--- ✩↢↢

It was less than a week later before Clint ran into the dream-haunting dancer again. He’d been on his way to Natasha’s, trundling down the stairs to catch the subway up to Greenwich Village, when something caught his eye inside the station. 

He was there, again. This time, it was two small hoops, twirled and spun around his body, highlighting the pull of abdominals, hair defiantly escaping the sloppy bun it had been pulled into. Clint stopped, staring for a moment before someone shoved him down the last stair, staggering into the station proper.

“Asshole,” the passing figure muttered, but Clint just dazedly stepped out of the way, back against the wall to watch the man who somehow was able to entrance Clint so easily. He had a sign up next to his hat this time, probably with some kind of info about who he was, but Clint allowed himself a moment to just sit and be dazed by the man’s performance. 

Street performers were mostly normal, there wasn’t a good reason why he should be this hooked on this particular person….but Clint couldn’t help but applaud as the song ended, and the man looked up, catching Clint in his gaze again like a fly in amber. The guy smiled, something bright and warm even as the next song began and he was moving again. 

Clint wandered closer, realizing belatedly that he didn’t have any actual cash on him, but got close enough to take a photo of the little sign. Sure enough, it had the guy’s social media handles on it, and Clint forced himself to walk away, striding towards the turnstiles and waiting trains. He would _not_ be a creep about this. It was just professional interest. 

….Okay, and a little bit of drooling over how attractive the guy was. But as soon as he hit aboveground outside Natasha’s, he would look the guy up and stalk him from a socially acceptable distance.

And try to remember not to actively ‘like’ any posts more than a year old, so as to not give off any creepy vibes. See? Totally normal behavior. 

↣↣ ✩---╎♡╎--- ✩↢↢

Natasha didn’t entirely disagree with him. Well, not like she actively agreed with her out-loud words, but Instagram _clearly_ showed that she was also following Spinning_Buckets (what a weird handle, but Clint supposed it had the benefit of being unique). Natasha quirked an eyebrow as he explained about finally getting the ability to internet-stalk his new not-a-crush, but she just rolled her eyes when he asked a plaintive “what?!”

“You’re adorable,” she commented, turning back to the television. “Good for _The Devil Wears Prada?”_

Clint huffed at her lack of answer, but flopped down next to her, grabbing for the popcorn. “You know I’m always ready for Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci.”

The rest of the night passed with their usual playful bickering, Clint completely forgetting about his earlier consternation until he was brushing his teeth, preparing to stay the night with Natasha and absently dismissing notifications.The little icon from Instagram was there, letting him know that Spinning_Buckets had followed his Aches&Archery account. 

Because of _course_ he’d forgotten to follow the guy with his thirst account. So now Clint was stuck fumbling through his own posts, checking to make sure whatever he had posted, mostly pictures of Lucky or of Kate’s pictures of him shooting, weren’t embarrassing. 

It’s not like it was the worst thing; this was the account associated with the Shot Through The Heart Archery Range page, but now Dancing Guy would be able to put a name to the face, would know that much more about Clint if they ever saw each other in a park or subway station again.

Fuck.

After confirming that he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself, Clint paged back to look at Spinning_Buckets account again, just catching the pride flag next to ‘Bucky: he/they’ before his thumb was covered in white goop. 

Ah. Toothpaste. Gross.

Groaning at his own idiocy, Clint set his phone aside, quickly rinsing the toothpaste off himself and silently thanking Natasha for the phone case she’d insisted he get. After wiping it down and wandering back into the bedroom, he looked up just long enough to catch a mischievous smirk on Natasha’s face. “Can’t a guy drop toothpaste on his phone in peace around here?”

“Mmm, not when he’s staring moon-eyed at some guy he’s internet stalking. _Especially_ considering I have to put up with your blanket hogging all night.”

Clint sighed, sitting on the side of the bed and continuing to scroll. “Listen, you didn’t want to share your judgemental opinions _before_ the movie, so you can _deal.”_

Natasha’s tinkling laughter taunted him as she disappeared into the bathroom, and he let himself flop back onto the bed, clutching his phone. This was not a big deal. This was just a hot guy who was maybe, _maybe_ available and–

And nothing. They didn’t know each other, this was just eye candy and Clint needed to stop romanticizing everyone he met. That’s how he and Bobbi had gotten to where they were. _But she’s still a good friend,_ a voice piped up. Clint resolutely ignored it. This was just fun, and he needed to stop being so wound up over a pretty face. 

A _very_ pretty face. Attached to some very pretty ink. And a gorgeous ass. And _fuck,_ but those thighs….

Something hitting his leg jerked Clint out of his thoughts. “If you’re going to keep mooning over this guy, at least show me what he looks like.”

Rolling his eyes, Clint sat up, glaring up at Natasha where she stood in her plain black pajamas. “Maybe if you’d stop making fun of my taste in people, I _would._ ”

“Maybe if you started dating better people, I would have less to make fun of.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clint handed her the phone before getting up, stripping out of his pants and shirt. “He’s just _pretty,_ I don’t know anything about him, so you can retract the claws already.”

But when he turned back, Natasha was just quietly scrolling through his phone, eyes focused.

“Natasha? What’d you find?”

She glanced up at him, then back to his phone before passing it back over. “You should ask him out.”

“Wait, what? Who are you and what have you done with stop-dating-idiots Natasha?” Clint took a step forward, and could feel his brow furrowing. “Do….do you know this guy, Nat?”

“You two would get on like a house on fire.” She turned away, heading back into the kitchen, but Clint followed.

“ _How_ do you know this guy, Nat? I thought I was the only circus brat you knew.”

She stopped at the sink, sighing as she filled a glass with water. “You know the jobs I can’t tell you about?” She glanced up, and Clint nodded dumbly, feeling like he was slower on the uptake than he should be. “Well, I worked with him, at that job that neither of us definitely had. Obviously, he’s out of it now, doing some circus stuff. I think he’s got some acting gigs too.”

Natasha had had a secretive job for about as long as she and Clint had known each other, something that forced her to leave for weeks at a time, sometimes on no notice. Clint mostly knew because he would take care of Liho when she was away, since Natasha wouldn’t trust the care of her cat or apartment to any of her neighbors. If Bucky had been into that stuff….well, Clint wasn’t sure _what_ that said about him. That he was good at keeping a secret, maybe. 

But other than that….he’d basically just gotten a glowing recommendation from the most difficult person to impress he’d ever known. “Okay. I guess I’ll maybe actually talk to him then?”

Natasha nodded decisively, and Clint trailed after her back to the bedroom. He pulled out his aids, setting them to charge on the nightstand, and finally let her shuffle him around until they were cuddled comfortably under the blankets. Meanwhile, his mind kept turning over and over the man, _Bucky,_ and the fact that Natasha knew them. Clint’s previous attempt to distance himself from the crush was discarded, and Clint could feel himself already imagining that hair mussed for an entirely different reason, seeing just how limber Bucky was, just how flexible Clint could still be….

He drifted off to those thoughts, with Natasha snoring into him, and dreamt of watching a much more private show….

↣↣ ✩---╎♡╎--- ✩↢↢

The next morning was a blur, between the pictures of Lucky from Simone (“proof of life,” she had texted), the rushed train back to the range, and back to back classes of kids learning to shoot over their summer vacation. Even on his lunch, Clint found himself chatting with Kate as she rewaxed bows and he glued fletchings back onto old arrows, talking about the olympic-inclined in the class she had later that night. 

By the time Clint was trudging up the stairs back to his apartment, waving a hello at Simone’s youngest before he darted back into the apartment, Clint had completely forgotten about his plan to maybe message Bucky. It wasn’t until he’d gotten a very enthusiastic greeting from Lucky and had headed out the door to walk him that he even remembered to check his phone. 

There were a couple messages from Natasha telling him to ask the guy out already, another message from Simone about being low on kibble, and a message from Spinning_Buckets on insta. 

Wait.

Bucky had messaged him. _Bucky had messaged him._

Well fuck, that was just...amazing. Wonderful. Perfect. Clint could feel his grin widening as he trotted down the stairs, holding the building door for Lucky before picking a direction at random to walk before opening the new chat.

 **Spinning_Buckets** : Hey

 **Spinning_Buckets** : Nat reached out to me and let me know that you also used to do some circus stuff. I hope the staring has been admiring and not critical

 **Spinning_Buckets** : Not that I mind the staring

Clint was grinning down at his phone, could feel his cheeks starting to burn from how hard he was smiling. Trust Natasha to reach out _for_ him and break the ice.

 **Aches &Archery**: Oh the staring was *definitely* admiring

 **Aches &Archery**: It’s been a long time since I’ve done any kind of circus stuff (outside of teaching archery, which only kinda counts) but I really like the way you twirl a baton

 **Aches &Archery**: Wait, that came out wrong…

Clint stared down at his phone, wondering if the joke was too lame, half thinking about ‘unsending’ the message, but before he’d gone more than five steps, the little ‘seen’ indicator popped up below his messages.

Shoving the phone into a pocket, Clint tried to ignore his jangling nerves, finally looking around at where he was and picking a destination. It only took a few minutes to reach the little park, but Clint felt himself buzzing the entire time, finally allowing himself to dig the phone back out as he and Lucky wandered in lazy circles. 

**Spinning_Buckets** : 😂

 **Spinning_Buckets** : I haven’t tried archery before, but that sounds fun. And it definitely counts. I’m guessing it’s a little more complicated than shooting a gun?

 **Spinning_Buckets** : You know, if you ever wanted to get back into circus stuff, I’d love to practice with you sometime

Oh, he could shoot? That was fun. Well, as long as he wasn’t a dick about it, but Clint flipped back to his profile, staring at the little pride flag next to the he/they. They were probably fine. Plus Natasha liked him, and she didn’t put up with assholes. 

Well, other than Clint, but he was the fun kind of asshole. Not the I-was-raised-to-hunt, being-conservative-is-my-personality kinda asshole. Just as Clint was about to swipe back to their conversation, another message came in from Bucky.

 **Spinning_Buckets** : or get coffee or something

Oh. _Oh,_ fuck, he was actually interested in a date. Well fuck, Clint wasn’t going to say no to that. If it turned out they were a dick later, Clint could always ditch them and roast Natasha about it later. 

**Aches &Archery**: lol bows and guns are just different beasts

 **Aches &Archery**: I will take you up on that offer of coffee though. Tomorrow, 10am?

That left them enough time to chat, but close enough to his actual work time that Clint could ditch out early if he needed to. God, he hoped things didn’t get weird. 

**Aches &Archery**: I don’t know about revisiting my circus days though; who can tell if I’m still that flexible

Clint locked his phone, doing another couple circuits with Lucky before turning and heading back home. He applauded himself for not checking his phone every five feet on the way back, even managing to wait until he was back upstairs, pizza ordered, and settling onto the couch with Lucky before pulling his phone back out. 

**Spinning_Buckets** : sure! I’ve heard good things about the Bitter End

 **Spinning_Buckets** : hope you don’t mind if I bring my stuff with me, was gonna try busking in manhattan tomorrow afternoon

 **Aches &Archery**: yeah, no problem

There. He had a date.

Clint blinked down at his phone, idly opening and closing his messages app, trying to decide what to do. Did he keep flirting with Bucky? Did he maintain radio silence until they met up? Clint was okay at flirting over text, but he really wanted to be able to read Bucky, to have him sitting right there and see his responses.

Locking his phone again, Clint leaned back and started spinning the phone, doing some small tosses as he thought. _Natasha would probably know what to do. And she would_ **_definitely_ ** _have an opinion about what I should do._

Clint sighed, resigning himself to asking for her help, given that Kate would probably just ask a thousand questions before cyber-stalking Bucky herself. Clint just didn’t have the patience for that right now. 

**thing** ~~**#1#2#1** ~~ **#2** : hey, so, i have a date for tomorrow

 **thing** ~~**#1#2#1** ~~ **#2** : what do i wear

 **thing** ~~**#1#2#1** ~~ **#2** : also do i keep flirting with him or just ignore it until tomorrow

 **thing** ~~**#1#2#1** ~~ **#2** : this whole thing is your fault, clean up your mess romanoff

He stared at the chat for a moment before sighing and flipping back to Bucky’s photos. Most of them were outdoor shots of him posing, or concentrating while juggling or spinning something. There was one with a bright white cat that the caption identified as Alpine, and Clint just shook his head. Of course they were a cat person. 

At least he was an _attractive_ cat person. 

Clint kept flipping through, idly liking some of the posts, stopping to enjoy the video of the shirtless handstand, muscles flexing as sweat dripped down Bucky’s bare back. _Fuck_ but that was attractive.

Going back far enough that there was snow on the ground, the photos migrated indoors, some from a typical apartment, but some looking like they were lit by stage lights. Some were alone, holding glowing versions of the toys Clint had already seen them playing with, but some had Bucky lifting other people in poses that Clint vaguely remembered. 

That was….wow, he did actual stage shows, with fancy lighting. That was fucking cool. Clint just stayed staring at the picture of Bucky lifting a dark haired man single handedly, entranced by the look of intense concentration on Bucky’s face. 

At some point later, the phone buzzed in his hand, jerking Clint out of his longing stupor. 

**Thing 1** : I swear, you’re hopeless

 **Thing 1** : Be glad I take pity on you.

 **Thing 1** : those tight black jeans you complain about barely fitting you, and the leather jacket you STOLE from me 

**thing** ~~**#1#2#1** ~~ **#2** : shirt???

 **Thing 1** : Literally anything you own that doesn’t have a hole

 **Thing 1** : If such a thing exists.

Clint rolled his eyes, but….well, she had a point. After a brief detour to the front door, alleviating the delivery person of the pizza, Clint made a beeline to his bedroom, temporarily ignoring the sweet sweet call of hot cheese. Fortunately, the range didn’t super care what he wore, as long as it wasn’t actively offensive, so Clint dug through his clean laundry pile looking for a non-holey shirt.

Well. He _hoped_ that was the clean laundry pile anyway. Smelled better than the other pile at any rate.

Finally, he dragged out a bright purple tank that read “I’m not gay, I’m SUPER GAY.” Well, go big or go home, right? He tossed it on the bed, dug out the pants and the, okay, maybe a _little_ bit stolen jacket before abandoning his outfit for the siren call of fresh pizza.

 **thing** ~~**#1#2#1** ~~ **#2** : thanks

 **Thing 1** : you can pay me back by letting me choose the movie next week

 **thing** ~~**#1#2#1** ~~ **#2** : augh, fine, fast and the furious it is

Clint flopped back onto the couch, dragging the pizza over and flipping to the Great British Bake Off. Somehow, he actually managed to put the date out of his mind, at least for the next few hours, and just enjoyed his night at home, eventually falling asleep curled next to Lucky.

↣↣ ✩---╎♡╎--- ✩↢↢

Which of course meant that he woke up the next morning in a panic. For once, nightmares hadn’t plagued his dreams, and waking up on the couch wasn’t so strange, but with the light streaming through the window, Clint quickly went from drowsy to stunningly conscious, sitting up so fast his head spun.

After a moment he stood up, searching on the cluttered coffee table for his phone as he massaged his ears with the other hand. Sleeping with his aids in, historically a terrible idea. Doubly so now that he would have to switch to his bright purple BTE’s, since these ones hadn’t gotten a charge in too long. He got both aids out before he finally found his phone, flicking it on to reveal that it was already 9:30.

Well, fuck.

Clint sprinted back to the bedroom, setting the nearly dead aids to charge before stripping and pulling on the clothes laid out yesterday. By the time he was hopping around, attempting to get the jeans over his ass, it was only 9:36, but that didn’t ease the thundering in Clint’s chest as he hopped towards the last place he remembered setting down the backup aids. Not next to the charging station, like Natasha said they “should be,” not on top of the dresser, not in the closet….

Zipping the jeans up, Clint stood for a quiet moment looking around. When was the last time he’d had them again? Must’ve been the last time he’d had company up here, but that had been _months_ ago. The person had left before Clint had even woken up properly, he’d gone out with Kate but had gone straight home after, ears complaining, until he came home and headed straight for the medicine cabinet.

Oh, right, duh.

Clint strode into the bathroom and there, right on top of the ibuprofen, were his spare BTE’s. They still had most of a charge, thankfully, so he slipped them on, took a couple painkillers to be safe, and headed back to the living room to pull on his boots. 

Fortunately, the cafe they had chosen wasn’t terribly far from Clint’s place, and he arrived at 10:04, sending a hurried ‘I’m here’ when he arrived and saw a complete lack of Bucky. 

One good thing about having slept on the couch; the adrenaline rush from that morning had let him get all the way here without panicking about meeting Bucky. Though, now that he was here and somehow had arrived _before_ Bucky, nerves shot through him again. 

Clint ordered and grabbed a table near the back, keeping an eye on the door. After a couple minutes, Bucky finally stumbled in, bag slung across his shoulder and staff in hand. They clocked Clint almost immediately, waving and giving Clint a smile that warmed him to his toes. Clint gave half a wave back before pulling out his phone as Bucky turned to order. 

**thing** ~~**#1#2#1** ~~ **#2** : he's here and he's cute, why did I let you talk me into this

Clint glanced back up, noting the bright smile Bucky gave the cashier, hair already falling loose from his ponytail to frame his face…. _fuck._

 **Thing 1** : Because it was either this or pine endlessly. I wanted a change of tune

 **thing** ~~**#1#2#1** ~~ **#2** : you old romantic

"This seat taken?" 

Bucky's warm voice washed over Clint and he immediately felt his cheeks flushing, craning his neck back to look up at the gorgeous man who was carrying, hey look at that, both of their coffees.

Before Clint could stop himself, he replied, "you look like a wet, caffeinated dream." Horror dawned on him, the urge to slap a hand over his own face was strong, but then Bucky was _laughing_ , like Clint was funny and not creepy.

Sheepish, Clint reached up to grab his drink, watching as Bucky set his stuff down and settled into the chair opposite him. "You're adorable, you know that?"

Clint flushed again before shoving his sheepishness aside. They came here to _talk,_ and if Clint got much more distracted with the flirting, he would just drag Bucky back to his apartment right then. "So, um, how'd you get into circus stuff?"

Apparently it was Bucky's turn to flush, and damn did they look good with that bit of heat coloring their ears. "Oh, right! I have a friend that used to do some circus stuff, she introduced me to the flow arts scene. Good thing she did too, or I'd probably be off fighting someone else's war instead of spinning and acting." 

A faraway look got caught on Bucky's face, so Clint took a sip of his too-hot coffee, letting the silence stretch, not wanting to push too far. After a moment, Bucky shook himself and smiled at Clint, a little more dimly but still there. "What about you?"

"Ah, right." He _had_ started this line of questioning, he should've expected the turnabout. "My brother and I ran away to the circus when we were kids, actually. Started me out cleaning up after the shows, but stick around a circus long enough and people love to show you what they can do. That's actually how I got into archery as well." Clint glanced up, but Bucky was still there, listening with an encouraging face that eased the knot of tension a little. "Got out when I was, oh, seventeen I think? Somewhere around there. Took my best friend with me, moved around the country a little before we finally settled here."

“Oh wow, that’s a _lot_ so young. But you’re still doing archery stuff? I mean,” and the blush that was creeping onto Bucky’s face was really rather adorable, “obviously, your handle is Aches and Archery, and you work at one of the best ranges in the city.”

Clint blinked in surprise, a little thrown. “You looked me up?”

“Well, I looked through some of your posts.” Bucky was fidgeting now, tracing designs on the table, adding with a mumble, “and I may have looked up where you worked. Sorry.”

Shaking his head, Clint tried to work out how weird that would be. He had _also_ looked into Bucky, and probably wouldn’t have gone out with them except for Natasha’s insisting, but–

“I was kind of thinking of looking you up and seeing if you did private lessons, but then you went and asked me out. Sorry, now that I’m saying it out loud, it definitely sounds creepy.” Bucky grimaced into his coffee, taking another drink and looking less comfortable than Clint had seen them so far.

“No, it’s alright,” he decided, putting aside any reservations. “I mean. It would certainly be less creepy if you had just asked me on a date instead of cyberstalking me, but I have it on good authority that you’re worth knowing, so…” Clint trailed off, not really sure where he was going with that thought.

Bucky tilted his head; damn it, was _everything_ this man did adorable? “Whose good authority do I have to thank?”

“Oh, that same friend that came out here with me; my best friend, Natasha.”

Bucky gave an unsettling slow blink before replying, “you know Natalia? Red hair, dances ballet, looks like she’s going to kill you most of the time?”

Clint narrowed his eyes before pulling out his phone and flicking to a recent picture of Natasha, crouched over a new coffee maker, and turned it to Bucky. “Her?”

“Yes, _yes,_ oh my god, this would be just like her.”

“What?”

“She sent me a cryptic message yesterday telling me to ‘say yes to a new opportunity that would open before me.’ And then you asked me out.” 

Clint rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like Natasha. Well, at least we have a meddling friend in common, if nothing else.”

Bucky snorted at that. “We certainly do. Well, are you….I mean, if you want to leave, I completely understand–”

“No, I don’t want to leave.” Clint flashed a reassuring smile. “I actually do want to get to know you a little better. So, what do you do when you’re not acting or doing circus stuff?”

Bucky grinned and launched into an explanation of his favorite sci-fi classics while Clint sipped his coffee, enjoying the man’s enthusiasm. They went back and forth like that until both their coffees were gone, only stopping when Clint’s ringtone cut through his explanation of tightrope walking. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Clint flushed, “just one sec.”

Bucky nodded, still smiling, and Clint let out a relieved breath before fumbling through his pockets to find his phone, nearly dropping it. He opened it to hear quiet cursing on the other end.

“Hey Katie-Kate, what’s up?”

“Clint?” She sounded frazzled, and it took Clint a minute to parse why that might be, so that her accusation hit at the same time his stomach was already dropping. “Where are you? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

“Shit, sorry, got caught up talking to….” Clint trailed off, glancing back up at Bucky. He _knew_ it was a date, they had agreed on that, but it still felt….special and secret right now. 

But if he didn’t say anything, Natasha would _definitely_ beat him to the punch, and he’d have to go through twice the teasing. Clint sighed. “I’m on a date, sorry, I lost track of time. I can be to you in–”

He was cut off by a squeal. “You mean Natasha actually convinced you to go on a date with hot, murder-strut guy? YES, this is the best news. No, don’t come in, go be cute and adorable and for the love of god send me a picture.”

Clint let his head flop forward, shaking his head in exasperation. “Are you sure, Kate? I know today we had the class of–”

“ _Yes,_ I’m fine, go be on your date!”

Before he could even thank her, Kate had hung up. Clint stared at his phone for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. “Well, I guess I’m off the hook for work today, but I have strict instructions to hang out with you and, if possible, send a photo to my coworker. Mind if I tag along for your act?”

And, somehow, the man across from him got even _cuter_ by blushing again. “Yeah, um, that’s fine. Actually, it looks like some kind of storm is working its way up Manhattan, so I was just going to play around in one of the parks near here and then head back home. But you’re still totally welcome to tag along!”

“Oh! Okay.” Clint could feel himself flushing in response, realizing that their relaxing maybe-an-hour date had become potentially an all day thing. It had been a long time since Clint had dated, but he didn’t remember being this addicted to someone’s presence so quickly.

….Then again, most of his “dates” ended up being one-time hook ups, so maybe it really wasn’t that surprising. 

Regardless, Clint found himself grinning stupidly as he and Bucky packed up their things, depositing the long-empty mugs in the bin, and headed back out onto the street. They meandered a little, and Clint was a little glad to note they were headed to the park nearest his own place. _Not that this is going anywhere like that,_ he told himself sternly, but was almost immediately distracted by Bucky going on about his dream bike, if he could afford to have non-public transportation in some distant future.

Arriving at the park, Clint and Bucky sat on a bench as Bucky went through his backpack, digging around to find the stuff for his usual setup. “It’s a good thing you kept walking by me, or I would’ve kept forgetting my sign.”

“Oh yeah?” Clint chuckled “I distract you while I was walking away?”

Bucky cast his gaze across at Clint, and Clint had to repress a shudder of _want_ at the attention. “There was that, but your arms certainly have something to do with it too.”

 _This_ game, Clint knew, he was good at, he fucking loved. With a smirk playing across his lips, Clint leaned back, stretching his arms up and then behind his head, watching the blatant hunger crawl onto Bucky’s face. “Yeah? Any particular thing you’d like to see these arms doing?”

“Well I’d _like_ to see them spread out on my sheets,” Bucky growled, before blinking and sheepishly glancing around the park, which was blessedly empty. 

And, fuck, but the thought of going back to Bucky’s place, of getting fucked by the glorious man next to him who was funny and smart and smoking hot…. “You know,” Clint said, causing Bucky’s head to whip around again. “That doesn’t sound like a bad plan. I’m sure these arms would love the feel of your sheets.” He added a wink, and grinned when Bucky dropped whatever he’d been holding back into his bag with a _thunk._

“Then I think your arms might be in luck,” Bucky retorted, zipping up his bag while keeping careful eye contact with Clint. “It just so happens that I forgot my speaker setup, so I’ll have to head back to my apartment anyway.” He stood up, swinging the pack back on. “If they were so inclined, I think your arms could accompany me back.”

Clint grinned up at him, enjoying the view, the sun backlighting Bucky and creating a nice glow. “I think they would be _very_ interested in that proposition.” He moved to stand, but Bucky didn’t move back, which left them standing close enough that Clint started thinking about kissing him.

“Only if you’re actually okay with it,” Bucky said in a low tone. “I don’t want you doing anything you’re not interested in.”

Clint blinked. Well _that_ was unexpected. But, honestly, a good idea, one he wished he’d thought of himself. “Yeah,” Clint replied, voice pitched low to match Bucky’s, “yes, I want this. As long as you do, as long as you’re okay with it too.”

“Oh I _definitely_ am.” Bucky’s smirk returned as he turned around, leading the way back to his apartment. 

It took a step or two for Clint to catch up, gently knocking into Bucky as they left the park.

“Oh sorry, is the rest of you coming? I only thought your _arms_ were interested in my bedroom.” But Bucky was grinning, so Clint just shoved him gently.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m rather attached to them. Guess you’ll just have to deal with the whole package.”

Bucky gave him an appraising, and flattering, once over. “And what a package it is,” he growled, grinning. 

Oh yeah, Clint could get used to this.

↣↣ ✩---╎♡╎--- ✩↢↢

It turned out that Bucky’s apartment was four streets over from Clint’s own, which was frankly miraculous considering the size of Brooklyn alone. He said as much to Bucky, who barked a laugh. “No shit, really? That’s awesome. No wonder I kept seeing you around here then; I thought you might’ve been following me.”

“Nah, I’m more disaster, less stalker.” Clint smiled at his own joke, but Bucky just grunted as he tugged open the door to the building. 

“Door sticks,” he offered, and they climbed the stairs in the relative quiet. After two floors, they turned into a hallway, though Bucky turned to face Clint before leading him further. “Sorry, should’ve said before; I’ve got a cat. If you’re allergic, or–”

Clint grinned, shaking his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Buck. I’m not allergic. Also you have photos of your cat on your Instagram.”

“Oh.” Clint watched the relief flow across Bucky’s face and laughed in giddy joy. 

“Come on; you promised to show these arms a good time.” Clint winked as he flexed, and thoroughly enjoyed the wicked grin that swept over Bucky’s features.

“Now _that_ sounds like a plan I could be down with.” He turned back, unlocking the door nearest the landing and ushering Clint inside. 

It was a nice place, relatively speaking. Tidier than he would’ve expected, considering the level of chaos that was consistent during all of his carnie years, but there was a simple display for Bucky’s toys on one wall, and after locking the door behind them and kicking off his shoes, Bucky made a beeline for it, dropping off his staves and dropping his bag below the display.

Clint leaned down to undo his boots, taking his cue from Bucky’s discarded shoes. He wandered further in, hands tucked into his jean pockets, and glanced around. The other walls were tastefully decorated with black and white photos of cities, with one exception. Gesturing at a mural of the Brooklyn Bridge at sunrise that looked as though it had been painted directly on the wall, Clint asked, “did you do that?”

“Huh?” Bucky looked around, before seeing what Clint meant. “Oh, no, that’s my friend Steve’s work. He’s a painter, and if he’d listened to _me_ , he’d be showing his art off all over the city.” Bucky glared at the mural for a moment, and Clint hesitated at the vehemence in Bucky’s tone before deciding to ask..

“Where is he now?”

Bucky sighed in the way that large, old dogs do before turning back around, moving to hang up some things that had been living in his backpack. “He’s over in South Korea right now, the punk. Tried to convince me to join up with him, ‘just for five years’ he said.” Bucky sighed again, turning back to the wall. “He promised he’d go to art school after that though. So I’m staying put so he’ll have a place to come back to when he gets back.”

Clint was quiet for a moment, staring out the window at the fire escape. He could still hear Barney’s voice making the same promises, that they would always stick together, not two months before the troupe had framed and ousted Clint. 

But he had that now anyway, with Natasha. They both always knew the other would be there, even if it was fucking _hard_ to trust anyone with that. “It sounds like he’s pretty special.” Clint winced as he said it, but it was the most true thing he could find to say.

Fortunately, it seemed the right thing. “Yeah,” Bucky whispered, quiet enough that Clint’s aids had trouble distinguishing the words. “He really is.” There was a quiet beat before Bucky shook himself, the life coming back into his eyes and warming Clint with how _happy_ he looked to have Clint there. “So! I believe I was showing you around the place?”

They took the brief tour, through the living area, kitchen, bathroom, and finally, _finally,_ the bedroom. 

Feeling a little bit of anticipation, (and could that be nerves?), Clint said, “so, this is where the magic happens, huh?” He winced internally. _Smooth moves, Barton._

Bucky snorted, and Clint immediately felt more comfortable. “Ain’t much magic happening in here, unless you count my beauty sleep.”

“Well you _are_ pretty damn gorgeous.” Clint smirked, gratified to see the flush climbing Bucky’s cheeks. _I’d love to do that every day,_ he thought wistfully before shoving _that_ thought in a deep, dark hole that he would explore somewhere past never.

“Anyway, this,” Bucky waved his hand, “is the bedroom, in all its glory.”

There was an awkward moment of tension before Clint decided, _fuck it._ This guy was hot. He was interested. No point beating around the damn bush.

Grinning at the grey coverlet, Clint took the two steps to the end of the bed before turning and flinging himself back, crossing his arms behind his head. “So! Is it everything you ever imagined?”

The room filled with Bucky’s startled laughter as a white streak zoomed out of the room; presumably his cat that had been lurking under the bed, and now wouldn’t be bothering them for the rest of the evening. 

“Not _quite_ like that, no. Mind if I rearrange you?”

“Be my guest.” Clint grinned as Bucky took a step closer, legs crowding Clint’s as he reached down to tug at the hem of Clint’s shirt. “Getting right to it, I see,” he teased.

Bucky just smirked, tugging again until Clint relented, sitting up and taking his shirt off, dropping it somewhere on the ground before looking up and realizing just how close Bucky was. 

“Can I kiss you?” It was a whispered request, but Bucky was close enough that Clint had no trouble reading his lips. 

Clint just nodded dumbly, eyes fixed on those perfect lips before flicking back up to grey eyes, filled with warmth and _tension,_ the same tension that thrummed through Clint, until–

Bucky kissed him.

It was soft and gentle, and a hand came up to caress Clint’s neck until he felt surrounded by the soft, warm feeling, until he nearly forgot that he had any agency in the moment. After a moment, Clint opened his mouth the tiniest bit, licking hesitantly at Bucky’s mouth, but that one admission was apparently all the permission Bucky needed. After that he _plundered_ Clint’s mouth, peppering soft presses of lips in between ravishing licks, like Bucky was drowning and Clint was air.

It was heady and intense, so that when they eventually parted, both of them were panting for air. 

“Fuck,” Clint muttered, feeling wild and on edge and inelegant and like he never wanted to stop. “Fuck, you could just _kiss_ me all night and I still think it would be the best night I’d ever had.”

Bucky laughed again, and yeah, Clint wanted to make him laugh as often as humanly possible. “Hope it’s alright that I plan on doing a little more than kissing you.”

“Yes, very alright, aggressively alright, the most okay anything has ever been, any way you want me pretty much.”

God, that man’s laughter was _addictive,_ and Clint was eager to find out what other sounds Bucky would make that he could become insatiable for. “Guess we should talk about ‘pretty much.’ What’s on the no-go list?”

 _Right. Boundaries. Important things. Fuck._ “Uhm, nothing without condoms and lube. Uh, don’t scratch my back? Like at all. And don’t fuck with my ears.” He gestured at the hearing aids, and Bucky nodded. “What about you?”

“Same about condoms and lube. I don’t like to be pinned down, or, uh, derogatory name calling.”

Clint nodded. “Gotcha. Stuff like sweetie and babe okay?” He was rewarded with a smile and answering nod from Bucky. “All that sounds very do-able. And speaking of do-able…” Clint trailed off, leaning back to give Bucky an exaggerated once-over.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but barked out a short laugh. “You’re one to talk. Here, let me get the comforter off.”

Clint shifted obligingly, standing beside Bucky as he flung the cover back, revealing navy blue sheets. Bucky turned back to Clint, a tentative smile in place, but Clint was already reaching for Bucky’s shirt.

“Not that you don’t look amazing in a henley, but I really want to see how far that sleeve goes.”

And there went Bucky’s laugh, buzzing under Clint’s skin with joy. “I’m pretty sure you insta-stalked me enough to know _exactly_ where my tattoos are.”

Clint whined, hands sliding up under the shirt, smoothing along the warm skin. “Yeah, but that was in _pictures._ Completely different thing in real life. I want to get my _hands_ on them.”

Shaking his head and smiling, Bucky leaned forward to steal another kiss before tugging his own shirt off. Clint held onto Bucky’s hips, leaning back and letting his eyes rove over the exposed skin. “Holy fuck,” he muttered eventually. “You’re fucking hot. D’you know how fucking hot you are? Je- _sus_.” Clint brought a hand up to trace over the smooth stomach, complete with a light dusting of dark hair, then turned his attention to the soft pecs, flicking a pierced nipple just to hear the gasp Bucky let out.

A hand on his chin distracted him, and Clint let it redirect his gaze back up to those laughing, grey eyes. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

And then he was being _pushed_ , until he fell back on the bed, Bucky following him down in a messy tangle of limbs, lips firmly pressed to his. And, yeah, it was a little comical, but it was also _fucking hot,_ and Clint found himself mewling a protest when Bucky pulled away.

“Hang on,” Bucky laughed, getting on his knees. “Here, scooch up, get more comfortable.”

Clint smirked as he shimmied upwards. “You planning on keeping me here for a while, Mr. Barnes?”

“You bet your sweet ass I am.”

And it was Clint’s turn to laugh as Bucky crawled after him, even as he was being stared down with that smoulder that said he was about to be devoured. “So you _do_ like my ass.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes, giving half a laugh before capturing Clint’s mouth in his again, keeping his body canted to one side and letting a hand trail down Clint’s torso.

Clint couldn’t hide the shiver that worked its way up his spine at the contact, at the anticipation, of being in the bed of a hot-as-hell person that wanted to do something about it. Fuck, but he hadn’t realized just how much he’d wanted this, with Bucky, distracted by all the soft feelings that had been growing.

Belatedly, Clint realized that _he_ was allowed to touch too, and flipped them over with a growl, thankful Bucky’s bed was so large. The air wooshed out of Bucky’s lungs, and his eyes were wide and lust-blown. Careful to not cage him in, Clint raked a hand down Bucky’s chest, watching the long planes of tanned skin for a moment before bending down and licking at one of Bucky’s nipples. 

Bucky _keened_ , and Clint grinned at his success. “Well aren’t _you_ sensitive?”

“Oh, fuck o–” was as far as Bucky’s retort got before he was letting out a small, high-pitched noise as Clint sucked the nipple back into his mouth, tongue playing with the ring, as his fingers wiggled their way into the top of Bucky’s waistband. Bucky arched into the contact, breath coming in short bursts, and Clint let go of the nipple to kiss his way downwards instead. 

By the time he’d gotten to the belly button, Bucky had recovered enough to be watching him hungrily again. Clint continued kissing lower, but as he got to the edge of jeans, he felt a hand on his hair. Glancing up, Clint saw conflict warring on Bucky’s face. “You okay? We don’t have to–”

“No, no, I just.” Bucky's face scrunched up as they trailed off, clearly looking for words. Clint knew what that was like, how it felt to want something but to have your brain yelling indistinctly so everything was difficult to make out. Clint very slowly shifted, moving until his head was pillowed on Bucky’s shoulder, one arm slung around him, tracing the tattoos along Bucky’s arm..

Bucky sighed eventually, and Clint just stayed there, waiting for whatever Bucky needed. “Can I just...not take my pants off?”

“Yeah, of course. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Hell, we don’t have to do _anything,_ I can just leave if you want me to.”

“No, no,” Bucky said, squeezing Clint tighter for a second. “Just...I want you, I _want_ you, I just don’t want to take my pants off.”

Clint nodded, stroking Bucky’s skin softly. “Yeah, that’s completely fine. Do you want me to get off of you?”

There was a grumbling noise that Clint tried _very_ hard not to find completely adorable before Bucky mumbled, “yeah, yeah that would probably be good.”

Clint rolled off them, settling on his back in the middle of the bed, once again luxuriating in how large it was. Bucky shifted next to him, and when he glanced that way, Clint noticed for the first time the scars across his chest. Clint had stared at a _lot_ of Bucky’s photos, though most of the shirtless ones had been taken from behind, he now realized. In the softly diffused light from the covered window, Clint finally recognized the scars that had been on display for a few minutes now. _Ooooohhhh._

Clint smiled up at Bucky, affection for letting him in this close, for trusting him and for setting a boundary when he needed it all bubbling up until Clint was frankly beaming up at the man above him. 

Bucky stared back at him incredulously. “What?”

“Oh nothing,” Clint said, still smiling. “You’re just really fucking attractive, and you want _me_ in your bed. It’s a turn-on.”

Bucky chuckled before kissing Clint again, so gently he thought he might cry. “I’m not the only fucking attractive one here,” he growled before nipping at Clint’s throat.

Clint could feel the whine leave his body, but wasn’t completely aware of it until Bucky was chuckling again, the vibration tickling pleasantly against his throat. “Yeah?” But Bucky didn’t give Clint time to respond before he did it again, pulling another keening whine out of Clint, then following it by licking a long slow stripe up Clint’s throat.

“Hhghh _fuck._ ”

“Eloquent.”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Don’t you just wish.”

Clint laughed at that, because he was on edge and turned on and Bucky was _funny,_ okay? “Only if you’re into it, babe.”

He saw Bucky’s breath catch, eyes blinking wide as his hand stuttered to a halt on Clint’s abdomen. “I am _very_ into you calling me babe,” he whispered, and Clint grinned a wide, evil grin.

“I’ll call you babe if you promise to do that tongue thing again.”

“Oh, I can do so much worse to you than that.” Bucky _winked,_ and seriously, it was not FAIR how goddamn attractive they were; all suave as hell, as though he’d stepped out of the 40’s. If the 40’s had been a filthy wet dream, that is. 

Clint lost track of time after that, only with-it enough to follow the trail of Bucky’s mouth down as it sucked a mark into his collarbone, as it paused over his nipple to flick at it, suck, then blow cold air until Clint was shivering, then continued its trek downwards. At some point a hand came up to rub at Clint’s hip as Bucky’s tongue started flicking under his waistband. 

By this point, Clint was moaning with the urgency to have _anything_ touch him, and when Bucky raised his head, a question on his lips, Clint was already fumbling with his zipper. “Yes, please god yes, please touch me, Bucky.”

And there was that laugh, now tinged with dark promise and just as intoxicating. “Get undressed for me then.” Bucky leaned back and Clint quickly shimmied out of his too-tight jeans, pulling his (thank fuck, _clean_ ) boxers down with them. He kicked them off the side of the bed, then leaned back, distinctly aware of Bucky tracking his every movement.

“Well damn. How did you get _hotter_?”

It was Clint’s turn to laugh as Bucky twisted away, rooting around in the bedside table. “Much as I would love to watch you come all over yourself,” Bucky said with a grunt, “I want to get my mouth on you even more.”

Clint’s brain short circuited at the suggestion; just the _thought_ of those sinful lips stretched around him was enough to have him losing a moment, until Bucky was over him again. 

“You good?”

“Hhhhghgh, _yes,_ fuck yes, come here–” And Clint tugged him down into another kiss, this one filthy and full of all the promises Clint would love to make if just the _thought_ of Bucky sucking him off hadn’t made him all tingly and stupid.

Bucky pulled back with a grin. “Well alright then.”

There was a brief fumble with the condom, but then it was on and Bucky was touching him and going on about how pretty Clint looked, and all he could do was lay back and feel and look, running one hand over Bucky’s arm, because he still couldn’t believe he was actually in bed with them. 

Just as Clint was getting used to the rhythm Bucky had started, their hand stilled and Clint whined again. “Just a sec, honey.”

And _oh,_ that was doing something to him. “H-hey, babe?”

Bucky looked up at him with a smile, readjusting. “Yeah?

“You know how you liked it when I called you babe?”

Bucky drawled the word out, “yeeeeeaaaah.”

“I think I like it when you call me honey.”

“Is that so…” Bucky quirked an eyebrow. “ _Honey._ ”

Clint squeaked and nodded, feeling a blush curl onto his cheeks before Bucky’s mouth was on his hip, sucking a mark into the pressure point there. Clint moaned as Bucky’s hand came up to press on the same place on the other side, and he bucked up into the touch. Bucky’s chuckle vibrating against his hip was almost as amazing as it had been against his throat, but then their mouth was moving, licking a stripe up his shaft before their mouth teased around his head. 

Moaning, Clint raised a hand to the back of Bucky’s head, hesitating for a moment. Bucky looked up at him through thick lashes and Clint had to thunk his head back against the bed for a moment. 

“Something you needed, honey?”

Clint whined at the ceiling before glancing back down to see the teasing smile against Bucky’s lips. “Was just wondering if it was okay for me to put my hand in your hair, _babe._ ”

“Go for it,” was all Bucky responded before he got back to work, carefully taking Clint’s cock into his mouth, pushing it against the side of his cheek until Clint was moaning, calling out their name, unable to watch the lewd bulge in Bucky’s cheek for more than a moment. 

Bucky’s tongue started doing something _infernal_ to the underside of his head, and Clint had to renew his grip in Bucky’s hair, biting back another groan as Bucky readjusted. A hand gripped loosely around his base, and suddenly Bucky was sinking down further and further, bobbing back up before sinking down again. Clint gasped at the sensation, toes already curling as Bucky squeezed his cock lightly.

They continued like that for what might have been an eternity, Clint was so lost in the sensations, just babbling stream of, “Bucky, please, babe, fuck, so good, _Bucky.”_ At some point, Bucky paused before sinking down far enough that Clint could feel the back of their throat.

Clint half sat up at the sensation, letting out a long, low “fuuuuuuck.” Bucky stayed there, clearly catching his breath as Clint did the same, and then he fucking _swallowed._ The moan was wrenched from Clint’s chest as Bucky carefully slid up and down, hitting the back of their throat every third or fourth time as Clint desperately tried to hold onto consciousness. 

“I’’m– _fuck, babe_ – I’m gonna–”

But then Bucky fucking _hummed_ around him, and it was too much. Bucky squeezed and continued humming as Clint came, the orgasm lifting him off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him.

He came to a few moments later, still panting, laying limp against the bed. Bucky was gently tugging the condom off, and Clint could hear the sounds of it being tied and dropped in what he assumed was the garbage can. A hand soothed up his leg, and Clint hummed happily. 

“I’m gonna get up to get you some water, okay?”

Clint nodded vaguely, still feeling like he might drift off at any moment. After what felt like only a second, Bucky was back, urging him to a sitting position and handing him a glass of blessedly cold water. Once he figured out how to operate his limbs again, Clint drank the water down as quickly as possible, passing the empty glass to Bucky a moment later. 

Bucky turned away to put it on the bedside table, and Clint let himself slip back down to lay against the bed. When Bucky turned back, Clint was rewarded with that warm chuckle again, and he grinned sleepily. “Tired already?”

Clint nodded blearily, fumbling for words, his entire body feeling slow and syrupy. “You just sucked all my energy out through my dick; think ‘m allowed to be a little sleepy.”

Another soft laugh and Bucky was bending down to give him another gentle kiss, so soft it broke Clint’s heart. “Yeah, alright, we can take a nap.”

Clint whined as Bucky got back up, but they just stood to take his jeans off, leaving him in a pair of boxers. Bucky crawled back in, and Clint latched onto them. “Snuggles?”

“Snuggles,” Bucky confirmed, wrapping an arm around Clint. “And maybe later I’ll make you dinner.”

“Mmmmm,” Clint replied, though he could already feel himself drifting off. “Means I gotta do you the next date, mmm?”

Bucky’s chuckle was worth maybe being a little less than coherent, but he still caught the, “yeah, honey. You can get the next one.”

↣↣ ✩---╎♡╎--- ✩↢↢

**Author's Note:**

> Additional thanks to Arson for the idea of thing ~~#1#2#1~~ #2. Clint and Natasha definitely had a fight about who was Thing 1 and who was Thing 2. You can see who won that argument.


End file.
